The Forgotten Army
by booksandhockey
Summary: After the blackout, the world was forced to set its priorities straight. In some cases, it was establishing authority. In others, it was replacing the power that was suddenly lost. In most, it was surviving without electricity. This is the story of the children forgotten, abandoned, and orphaned at the hands of Monroe's Militia.
1. Chapter 1

**Elliot:**

If I speak of myself in this story, it's because I survived when I should have been killed.

I lived. So now I guess the cat's out of the bag.

Oh, the cat. Erica won't stop crying over the damn thing. She should have known it would run away. Animals know when bad things are about to happen. The damn cat ran away seven hours before Dad told us he was enlisting in Monroe's Militia.

When the Militia took our mother, I expected Dad to react differently than he did. When they showed up at our doorstep and insisted they take possession of eligible women at our residence, Dad just let them do it. He stood on our weathered doorstep and watched the cart haul her away. The part that scares me is Erica would have been taken if she were a few years older.

He knew what the Militia did with women. When they were healthy and useful, women were chosed at random and tossed right into Sebastian Monroe's bed. I only discovered this recently, but Dad knew exactly where Mom was headed.

Erica and I were gathering berries and harvesting corn when it happened. We were thirteen. Mom had always told us it wasn't a matter of whether you were a Rebel or in the Militia, as long as you did what you thought was right. We saw the cart on our way back home, and I confronted them regardless of Erica's pleas. It was the first time I'd seen a gun in my short lifetime, and it was pointed at me.

_It's okay, Eli. I'll be home soon. I love you._

Erica peeked out from the bushes and hooked her arm through mine, guiding me out of the pathway. It was the last time we saw our mother alive.

We don't remember what it was like, Erica and I. The United States is just a term that is forbidden to our generation, nothing more. While Dad was out hunting, Mom used to tell us stories of the time before the blackout. They sounded like fairytales, yet both Erica and I hung on every word. It's foolish to think life could be that way again, but it doesn't mean we don't believe in it.

Dad came home a few nights ago with the burn mark, still a fleshy pink beneath his wrist. He showed it off like something he was proud of. I didn't think there was anything that should make him feel proud. In my book, he took our mother away from us.

It'll be easier for you to join now, he told me. I'll save a place for you, right beside me.

That's when I decided to cut every tie I had to that man. If I could clean my blood without killing myself, I would do it.

I didn't ask Erica to come along. Hell, I didn't even want her to. I just told her I was leaving, and she followed me like a lost puppy.

Every few minutes, she makes this irritating clicking noise and calls the damn cat's name. Like she'll actually find it. Like it's actually alive.

She wanted a weapon, so I gave her a wooden baseball bat. I'm the only one allowed to use the knives. Even if I gave her a knife, she'd probably trip and poke her eye out.

You would think as twins we would be more compatible.

_Click, click, click. _Stella, here girl.

"Erica, please." I begged through my teeth.

"She's out here somewhere." Erica explained in her matter-of-fact way. "She just can't hear me."

"Can't hear because she's dead." I muttered under my breath.

"Shut up, Eli." Erica's feet were crunching too slowly in the dry leaves behind me. "Stella? Come here, girl. Where are you?"

"If you can't keep up, I'll leave you behind." I warned her.

"Sure you will." She skipped ahead of me and picked a leaf off of a low-lying branch. "A storm is coming." She said.

I rolled my eyes. "If you say so."

"The wind is blowing at the backs of the leaves, see?" She ran her fingers along the branches as she walked. "When the backs are turned, it means a storm is coming."

"That's bull." I said. "I'll let you know if inclement weather is in the near future, alright?"

"You'll see." She raised her face to the sky. The sunlight was fading, it was already mid-afternoon. If Dad wanted to find us, he would have already done it.

"I'm hungry." Erica stated.

"Eat your arm."

"Can't we stop and look for berries?"

"No, it's getting late. We're losing daylight." I shifted my backpack on my shoulders. "Keep walking."

I only had peace for a very short time. I saw it up ahead and stopped dead in my tracks. Erica bumped into me from behind.

"Keep walking." She mocked me, stepping around my blockade.

I grabbed her t-shirt. "Erica, wait. There's -"

"It's getting late. We're losing daylight." She shook my hand away. Can't say I didn't try.

I can't lie, either. The next few moments in my life were not my favorite. Erica quit skipping and stared at the scene before her, absorbing the morbid details into her permanent memory.

She moaned through the initial cry and hurried over to the base of the tree. It was a hunter's trap, similar to the ones we used to catch rabbit. The cat was dead, probably strangled itself in the netting. It was caught around its neck and paws.

Erica fell to her knees and cried the hard and ugly cry. I hadn't seen her that upset since Mom was taken.

My first instinct wasn't to mourn for the cat. If there were traps, someone had to set them. People were around, and if Dad taught us anything, it was to never trust anyone before they earned it.

"Hey," I knelt beside Erica, glancing around in the trees. "We have to keep moving."

I placed my hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away.

I didn't have much patience at first. "Erica, we don't have time for this."

"You knew this would happen." She sobbed. "You knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

I sighed, swinging my backpack off my shoulders. I dug for the switchblade in the front pocket and flipped it open. I leaned toward the cat.

"No!" Erica grabbed my wrist.

"Relax." I gathered the netting and carefully broke the woven strands. She sniffled the entire time, but was otherwise quiet. Once the cat was free, I stood on my feet. "There, now let's go."

"Eli?"

"What?"

Erica trailed her hazel eyes over the forest floor. "We have to bury her."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Erica -"

"I'm going to bury her." She said firmly, crawling around and shifting her fingers through the dirt. "If you won't help, go on without me."

I watched her shovel the dirt away with her hands and sighed again. "Don't dig there, you need softer soil." I found her a spot near the base of the same tree.

Once the damn cat was buried, Erica wanted to pick some flowers to lay on the pile of dirt. I told her she had two minutes.

I rested my head against the trunk of the tree and listened to the sounds of the forest. It was getting much later. We would probably have to stay put until morning. I thought of what Mom used to say about doing the right thing, and I decided she was proud of me for allowing Erica to deal with her dead cat.

I heard the footsteps coming up from behind the tree, but the extra set was masked by walking in synchronization with my sister's.

"Back with time to spare?" I teased, tilting my head around the trunk.

Erica was stumbling ahead of the baseball bat pointed between her shoulder blades. The guy poking her with the tip of the bat looked pissed. He stood a good four inches taller than me, and nearly six inches taller than Erica.

It didn't surprise me that Erica started tearing up again. Only she could be captured while picking flowers for a dead cat.

I pulled out one of my larger knives, but not the biggest. "Back off, buddy."

At a deeper glance I realized he was young, like us. Maybe a little older. "What are you doing here?" He ordered.

"Just passing through." I said, because it was true. I didn't know exactly where we were headed.

The guy noticed the torn trap and the pile of dirt where the damn cat was buried. "What did you do with my kill?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Your kill?"

He gestured with his chin. "That's my trap. Or it was, before you sliced it up."

I watched Erica's innocent face change.

"Well?" He asked me. "Where's my kill?"

Erica spun on her heels, her crinkly brown hair whipping around with her. She pointed an accusatory finger in his face. "_Your_ trap? _Your _kill?"

The guy smiled, dropping his knife to his side. "Easy."

"Do you realize what you've done? You killed my cat! Stella is dead because she was caught in _your _trap!"

The guy shrugged. "It isn't my fault your cat was stupid enough to fall into a rabbit trap." I silently agreed with him, though I didn't trust him. Not in the slightest.

Erica was fuming, her tears the icing on the cake. "Don't you dare insult Stella that way!"

The guy peered at her hand and grabbed her forearm. Erica gasped. I raised my knife.

He turned her arm to check for Monroe's burn mark. She was clean. He looked up at me expectantly. I rolled my sleeve to show him I was clean, too.

"The Militia patrols through here on a schedule." He said. "If you hang around, you'll get caught."

I nodded once, flexing my fingers around the knife.

"Are you with anyone else?" He asked.

I shook my head, though I regretted it. If there were others, he would have left us alone.

"We're runaways." I added stupidly.

There was an unnatural rustling in the bushes beside me. I watched an arrow produce itself within the brush and aim at me in the sheath of a bow. A younger boy was on the other end.

The guy behind Erica grunted. "Michael, I told you to stay put."

"You took too long. Who are they?" Michael shifted his aim toward Erica, but gradually lowered his arms.

"Runaways." He said.

"Militia?"

He shook his head.

Michael looked at Erica again. "I think we should bring them back for the night."

"Oh do you? And what gives you the right to make my decisions?"

"They have weapons, Peter." Michael acted as if we weren't even there. "We can trade off supplies, too. Just one night."

Peter stayed silent, deep in thought. I looked at the backs of the leaves waving at me on the trees.

"Have any parents?" Michael asked me.

I looked at Erica. She had her eyebrows creased across her forehead. "No." I said.

Michael checked Peter's reaction like I had said the secret password.

Peter breathed through his nose. "A storm is coming." He said. Erica turned to look at him for the first time. He had one of those faces, the ones that make girls stare a little longer than necessary. "We can only provide shelter and food for tonight."

I didn't see any harm on the surface. "Alright."

Damn cat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Erica:**

I untwisted the cap of my canteen and drank the last few sips of water at the bottom. My cheeks were still warm and moist from crying over poor Stella's death. I walked faster to keep Eli from yelling at me for being too slow, as he followed close behind with Peter.

I noticed the other boy staring at me through the corner of his eye.

"What's your name?" He asked suddenly.

I swallowed, listening for Eli to discourage me. He didn't. "Erica."

He waited another second. "Sorry about the cat."

I tried smiling a little. "It's alright. I wouldn't have been able to protect her out here, anyway."

Michael checked for his brother and Eli, still walking a short distance behind us. Both of them were close enough to hear our conversation. "I hope Peter will let you stay more than one night."

I smiled again. This boy was too kind for his own good. Kind of like me. "I'm sure Eli won't want to stay any longer than that."

"Your brother?"

I nodded. "We're twins."

Michael looked back again, probably at Eli. His eyes found my face. "You kind of look the same. Who was born first?"

"I was." I said smugly. "But Eli doesn't like to think of me as his big sister."

Michael nodded, smiling back at Eli again. "How old are you?"

Eli cleared his throat before I answered. I ignored him. "Seventeen."

Michael blinked. "Oh." His eyes traced back and forth across the lines of trees ahead. "Do you remember what it was like?"

He means before the blackout, when The United States still existed, fifteen years ago. "We were only two."

"Peter was four. He remembers a little." Michael kicked a rock at the base of a tree. "My mother was pregnant with me when it happened."

I almost asked him about his parents, but I decided against it. I didn't think it was the right time.

Michael picked up his pace. I saw the brick building ahead of us and gradually stopped walking. Eli caught up with me.

"Wow." He spoke before he saw the mass of children spill from the inside. They emerged from every crack and crevice, some just peeking, others bearing spears and bows.

"We're not alone." Peter muttered to us when he walked by. Eli glanced at me with a look I recognized. We wouldn't be staying here more than one night.

We watched even more children appear out of thin air. Eli shook his head. "You just had to pick flowers, didn't you?"

I ignored him - again - and approached the brick building. It was decaying and crumbling, but structurally sound. The children followed Peter inside. Michael waited for us to catch up before leading us in.

In the center of the complex, there was a large fire that warmed the entire surrounding area. There were more than just the children we saw outside, each with their own little setup. They couldn't all be from one family, with the different shapes and sizes and colors. They stared at us curiously upon our entrance.

"This is Erica and Eli." Michael introduced us. "They're going to stay with us for a little while."

"Just one night." Peter corrected.

The kids didn't care much for us. "Where's our supper?"

Peter revealed a bundle of collected traps with rabbits inside them. "We have less tonight, and more mouths to feed." Peter made an effort to glare at me.

The children followed his lead. I chewed on my lip nervously, but they eventually dropped their eyes again. That was the first time I saw Peter smile.

Three of the boys approached Peter without being called. They took the rabbits and scurried away, probably preparing to make a meal. The rest of the children returned to their respected places.

"This is bizarre, isn't it?" I whispered to Eli. "All of these children living together, without any parents?"

"Sure."

I noticed his sour expression. "What's the matter?"

"You're lucky it was Peter Pan over there that found you instead of the Militia. We could easily be dead right now."

I gulped at the reality of his point. "Well let's be thankful it wasn't and we aren't." Something else was bothering him, but I knew he wouldn't share it with me. Not yet. "Is there anything we do to help?" I asked both Michael and Peter. Eli elbowed me in the ribcage.

Peter blinked and surveyed the scene around him. "Lily."

A young girl with dark skin hurried to Peter's side. He crouched beside her and whispered something, pointing in my direction.

"This is why you should keep your mouth shut." Eli whined.

"I'm being polite." I insisted. Lily looked at me and walked back to her station. Peter motioned for me to follow her. I looked at Eli one last time. "Would it kill you to be grateful?"

Lily sat down and crossed her legs before a large plank of wood. I followed her lead. She didn't say much, but she didn't need to. I saw the collection of vegetables, some already cut and others waiting. I picked up the extra knife and sliced a potato in half.

I could hear the other children talking and laughing every now and again. Lily preferred to work in silence.

"Your name's Lily?" I asked.

She pushed her pile of carrots away.

I kept my eyes down, giving her a chance to look at me without being seen. I could tell through my peripherals that she did. "Am I doing this right?"

"Don't cut them so big." She warned me. My potatoes were sliced in round pieces. "The little ones need them smaller."

I couldn't help but smile. "Okay." I diced the potatoes into smaller pieces.

When we finished, Lily scooped the vegetables into a pot of water and set it over the fire. I was surprised at her fluent motions. At her age, I was just learning how to use a knife properly. Not that I ever really learned...

Lily gathered our knives and took them elsewhere. I sat myself on a wooden log beside the fire and waited for her to return. I heard the rumble of thunder in the distance and looked for Eli to rub it in his face. I spotted Lily at the washing basin with another little girl. Michael was barking orders at the boys preparing the rabbit to roast over the fire. I didn't see Eli anywhere nearby.

I stood up slowly, trying to remain unnoticed. While I wandered around, I got a better look at their humble home. It was interesting, with the odd furniture and spray-painted graffiti on the walls left over from before the blackout. I came across a room, shielded by a hanging cloth. I glanced behind me before pinning back the cloth. Behind it was a twin sized bed and two wooden blue drawers, along with a bookcase and a few other pieces.

The focal point of the small room was hard to miss. Draping down from the ceiling was a worn and battered flag with the forbidden colors: white, red, and blue. I took hesitant steps towards it, running my fingers over the stitching of the stripes and stars. It gave me a rush of adrenaline, and I could feel the raw power beneath my fingertips. I felt like a Rebel.

"You wouldn't tell on me, would you?"

I jumped at the unexpected voice. Peter eyed me carefully, though his tone was joking. At least I thought he was joking.

"I-I didn't - I'm sorry, I..." My words were lost. "I wouldn't."

Peter stepped closer to me, a mere arm's length away. He wanted a clearer answer.

I directed my eyes to the flag again. "I've just never seen one so big." I dug in the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the stamp with a poor depiction of the American flag.

Peter chuckled. "A stamp? You mean you've never seen a real American flag before?"

"I found this in my mother's room," I slipped the stamp back to safety in my pocket. "After she was taken away."

Peter frowned, just as he did when parents were mentioned. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"

I shrugged innocently. "I was looking for my brother. I wasn't trying to bother you."

"He's helping the boys sharpen their spears." He informed me. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Lily?"

I was afraid to look at him. He practically screamed authority figure just by standing before me. "The vegetables are already boiling."

I gathered enough courage to peer up at him. Peter dropped his green eyes to the stamp in the center of my palm. "You know, the Militia would kill you for having that. It means you're a Rebel."

I shifted my eyes to the flag hanging beside us. "At least I can swallow mine if I need to." I said.

Peter folded his arms across his chest. "They wouldn't waste any time if they found this here." He eyed one of the frayed ends at the bottom. "We'd all be killed."

I watched his face turn towards guilt. Why would he keep something so dangerous around so many children? No matter how intimidating he seemed, I could just as easily recognize how deeply he cared for the children beneath his roof. I wouldn't let it get to me, though. I still held a grudge against him for Stella's sake.

"Hey." It was Eli, poking his head behind the hanging cloth. He shifted his eyes between Peter and I. "What's going on in here?"

"Nothing." I said instantly. Eli spotted the flag between us and looked at Peter accusingly, though I knew he was just as humbled as I. When silence followed, I cleared my throat. "I told you it was going to storm."

Eli dragged his eyes back to me. "Huh?"

Peter followed my lead in distracting him. "The undersides of the leaves have shown all day." Peter said. He eyed me curiously. "Is that how you knew?"

I nodded, probably a little pink as well.

Eli rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for interrupting, but dinner is served."


	3. Chapter 3

**Elliot:**

Seventy percent of communication is through body language. After living with Erica my entire life, I have taught myself to read hers fluidly. When she's particularly happy, she starts whistling. When she's uncomfortable, she wrings her fingers until they turn red. She blinks too many times when she lies. It's the only way I can catch her when she's not telling me the truth.

I watched her on and off while she ate her meal (which she refused to accept until Peter Pan talked her into it) and read her like a book in the process. She claimed she was still upset by the damn cat situation, but she sure as hell wasn't acting like it.

She secluded herself in a helpless little corner and drew pictures with a stick in the dirt while the rest of us indulged in the only real meal I'd seen in almost two days. Michael noticed Erica sitting by herself, but it was Peter Pan that flew in to the rescue.

"It's no use." I said, watching him waste his time making up a plate for her. "She's a stubborn little beast."

He stood over the pots of vegetables. "Which does she like more?"

"Carrots."

He scooped some extra carrots on the plate and carried it to her, along with some mismatched silverware. I smiled to myself. She always hated carrots.

I peeked up every now and again when I realized Peter never came back. He sat beside her, his arms resting on his knees, and listened to Erica talk about who knows what. She tucked her hair behind her ear, a shy habit that couldn't mean anything good. It was when she took that spoonful of carrots that she crossed the line.

"Unbelievable." I muttered to myself.

Michael glanced up at me, then peeked at the two in the corner. "What?"

"She hates carrots." I said.

Michael wrinkled his brow. "Then why is she eating them?"

I put my empty plate on the ground beside my feet. "How could she refuse?"

The kid thought really hard about it. "I don't like carrots, either. But when it's all you have to eat..."

I stared at him and decided to be blunt. "Where did you all come from?"

"Where?" He looked at me funny. "I've lived here my whole life - well, ever since the blackout."

I glanced around at the mossy brick walls again. "Really?"

He nodded, stacking my plate with his. "We all have."

I peeked back at Erica before following Michael to the washing basin. "All of you lived here? In this building?"

Michael nearly rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like those places that had several floors where they took care of sick people?"

"You mean hospitals?"

"Right, right. It's an old hospital."

It made sense. There were a lot of open spaces and large rooms. The building didn't look like it was being used in any of the floors higher than ground level. "Well what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Michael started watching some of the boys chase each other around the lot.

I watched them too, before they ran past Peter and Erica. "Where are all the adults?" I refrained from using the other word.

The kid flat-out ignored me. "Hey Peter?"

Peter Pan perked up at his name like a dog. Erica's eyes met mine and she dropped them just as fast. So pathetic.

"Skip asked me three times today if he could come along and help set traps." Michael whistled at one of the scraggly boys playing tag, and he scurried over.

Peter looked the boy over. "You aren't afraid of the dark, are you Skip?"

Skip stuck out his chest and broadened his shoulders. "Nope."

Peter smirked. "Kid has to learn sooner or later."

Skip threw a celebratory fist in the air. "Yes! I'll get my new traps."

"Hurry up." Michael called after him. He began packing his own supplies, gathering them from a table of several different traps and hunting weapons. They all looked homemade, but I was still impressed.

"Why don't you take Eli with you?"

My neck jerked toward Erica's voice. Michael looked at me curiously. "You know how to set traps?"

"He's been catching things his whole life. He knows some cool tricks, don't you Eli?" She smiled at me, and it was sickening.

I shrugged. "I know a few."

"Take him with you." Peter agreed. "Just don't let him wreck any more rabbit traps."

Michael nodded, tossing his bag over his shoulder. "Skip!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"Wait." Erica jumped to her feet with sudden concern. "You said the Militia makes runs through here?"

"Not this early." Michael explained. "The rain will hold them off even longer."

I peeked outside and frowned. I forgot about the damn rain.

"Are you sure?" Erica asked again.

Michael smiled at her. "I'm sure."

Peter stood up next to my sister. "Keep an eye on Skip, please. You remember what happened last time we-"

"I climbed about thirty feet up a tree and it took them half a day to find me." Skip said.

I smirked, seeing some of myself in the boy. "Well done."

"Don't climb any trees tonight. It's damp and dark out there." Peter ordered. He started sounding more and more like our father. It unsettled me.

"Okay, okay. Come on!" Skip hurried off right into the rain.

Michael flicked the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. I did the same.

Erica tapped me on the shoulder. "Be careful, okay?"

I rolled my eyes at her. It was then that I realized I would be leaving her there, alone with Peter Pan and his battered flag.

I spied on him while he added more logs to the fire. I leaned close to Erica. "Do you still have that baseball bat?"

She looked past me, confused by my question. "Over there, next to my bag. Why?"

It was her innocence and her annoying tendency to see good in people that worried me. "Just checking."

The mud was thick where we were walking. I couldn't see how it would be a good area for setting traps. Michael moved swiftly through the mud like an earthworm, and Skip flicked his fingers over every branch and leaf that we brushed past. I trudged behind them both, occasionally sprayed with water droplets from Skip.

"You shouldn't do that." I had to shout a little over the rainfall. "Those plants could be poisonous."

"It's just a leaf." He ran his dirty fingers over the wrinkled bark of a tree.

Michael didn't seem to be concerned, so I let it go. He stopped walking to tug a coil of wire from his backpack. "Wait here." He disappeared behind the brush.

I sighed, realizing this amateur hunting trip was a waste of time. If I wanted to walk in the rain all night I would have dragged Erica with me. There was no use in spending the night with all of these Rebel orphans.

Skip was eyeing the tall tree standing before him. He cracked his knuckles and wiped his forehead. His body language could be read by anyone. "How fast do you think I can climb this?"

I knew it wasn't right, but I played along. "Faster than Michael can come back."

Skip grinned a toothless grin and practically ran up the trunk like a squirrel. I smiled, squinting up through the raindrops to watch the little sucker go.

Michael came back not three seconds later. "What are you doing?" He followed my eyes up the tree. "Where's Skip?" He asked through his teeth.

"The kid's a natural." I argued. Michael was about to argue back but his face became frozen. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to the ground with him, soaking my clothes in the squishy forest floor. "What the hell-"

"Shh! Someone's coming."

I heard the hooves squashing through the mud and the squeaky wheels of the cart. The branches in the trees above us groaned in protest to Skip's weight. Michael peeked through low branches to catch a glimpse of the two Militia soldiers bickering on the cart.

"This damn road looks exactly the same as it did yesterday. There's no reason we should have to be out here in the middle of a thunderstorm."

"Stop whining. It's bad enough they paired me with you, I don't need to hear you whine."

"Can't we both agree that the - hey, what the hell was that for?" The soldier slapped his hand over the back of his neck.

"I didn't do anything." The other soldier held up his hands innocently. This time, I heard something hit him square in the forehead. "What'd you just throw at me?"

The first soldier peered up in the treetops. Michael swallowed roughly as we both spotted Skip's foot dangling from the branches. "Something fell out of the trees." The soldier said.

"That sure as hell was not -"

"It was the wind, dammit! Now shut up before I really throw something at you."

Another minute passed and they were out of sight just as quickly as they came. I straightened myself out and heard Skip's nimble feet hit the ground.

Michael grabbed a fistful of Skip's shirt. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"Did you see what I did?" Skip seemed excited regardless of Michael's attitude. He whipped out a slingshot made from a couple of twigs and showed it to me. "There are plenty of acorns up there."

It took me a second to connect the dots. I looked at Michael, his mouth pressed into a line, and I laughed out loud. "Nice aim." I offered the kid a high-five.

Michael rubbed his eye and pushed past my shoulder. "Come on. We're done for tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

**Erica:**

The fire was hypnotic, its crackle and dull glow sending me into a short of trance. In this state, I started remembering times spent beside our fire at home, with Mom telling stories of the time before the blackout as we drifted to sleep and dreamed of her tales. I could almost hear her humming and caressing my face, the memories so fresh and so strong. I was shocked back into reality before I could really feel her absence. Just like always, I felt like the memories I created weren't real, that they were just a method to help me grieve for her.

That's what Eli had always told me. They were just memories.

I looked down at the object placed on my knee by my new little friend Lily. It looked like a bracelet, interwoven with blades of grass and flowers into a beautiful pattern.

I held it up to eye level to get a closer look. "You made this? All by yourself?"

Lily pointed behind her. "Julia helped me."

"Wow." I breathed, amazed that two little girls could create something so intricate from scratch. "Thank you."

"Lil," Peter squatted down beside us. "Is everyone in bed?"

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Everyone?

Lily turned to me. "I wanted to give her this."

I showed Peter the bracelet as proof after he looked to me expectantly. He smiled a little, but maintained his role as parental figure. "I need you well rested for tomorrow, remember?"

She nodded obediently, squeezing her feeble arms around his solid neck. She waved to me before skipping into her bed beside Julia, located below a window in the wall.

I waited until Lily was out of earshot. "She's so precious."To be so young without any parents...it begged the question of how they all got there.

Peter nodded, tossing another log in the fire. He wasn't much for conversation, though I could tell he didn't mind the company.

"How old is she?"

"About six. I'm taking her on a trip to the market tomorrow morning. She can sell those bracelets."

I tried to tie the bracelet around my wrist. I was never very coordinated, and this task was no exception. Peter watched me struggle for a moment before offering to help me.

"How long does it usually take to set traps?" I peeked out into the rainy darkness and worried for Eli.

"They'll be back shortly." He pulled the ends together and tied the knot securely on my wrist. He cleared his throat to break the silence that followed. "I never really apologized about your cat..."

I surprised myself with a smile. "You could have shown some sympathy."

"I'm not really an animal person."

I played with my fingers and watched the fire again, wondering how much he would let me ask him. "You take very good care of them. The children."

He shrugged it off, leaning against the log beside me. "Somebody has to do it."

"Are all of them orphaned?"

"Every last one." I could see the flames dancing in his pupils. The glow highlighted the angles in his face as well. I wondered if I seemed as beautiful to him as he did to me."

I swallowed roughly. "Even you and Michael?"

He remained composed. "Like I said, all of our parents are dead. Killed in an ambush by the Militia."

I stared down at my boots, picking at the laces. "I'm sorry."

He continued on hesitantly, like it was the first time he was sharing this with anyone beside his brother. "I think all of them knew what would eventually happen. It wasn't a matter of _if_ the Militia came - It was _when_."

"So what did you do?" I scanned my eyes over each little pink face, fast sleep about the room. "All of the kids...how did you survive?"

Peter spoke evenly. "Our parents hid us before the Militia came. We were each kissed goodbye and sent down to the basement."

I could infer that these children were residents in the building of Rebel parents. The Militia has killed plenty of people before, but they showed absolutely no mercy for Rebels. I could only imagine the rest of their story.

"We waited for hours. Michael and I were the first to come upstairs. The Militia was gone, but they killed all of our parents before leaving. Didn't burn that flag, though."

I looked over at the dangling cloth, the sole purpose of why the building was ambushed. "You kept it even after they -"

His lack of emotion concerned me. "I might not remember what the United States was like, but I know it was a hell of a lot better than this."

I struggled to work around a lump in my throat. "How old were you?"

"About Michael's age, maybe a little older." His jaw stayed straight and even, a level of composure he needed to have with his place as guardian of these children. "So what about yours?"

I shifted my legs anxiously. "My parents?"

"You said you didn't have any. What happened to them?"

Eli wouldn't have wanted me to give that sort of information away. But how could I withhold the truth after what Peter revealed to be about his parents? "My mother was taken. I don't know if she's still alive."

Peter scowled, aware of what happened to women when they were taken by the Militia. "Did they know she was a Rebel?"

I'd never really considered that. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"You might be lucky, then. She could still be alive."

I'd never considered that, either. "Maybe."

"And what about your dad?"

We were interrupted by the return of our brothers and Skip. The rain-soaked boy frolicked up to us with pure enthusiasm in his eyes. "You'll never guess what happened!"

I smiled along with Peter. "What happened, Skip?"

"If you tell him, he won't let you set traps again." Michael warned him.

Peter's forehead wrinkled a bit, but he kept smiling. "Do I want to know?"

As Skip began telling his story, I watched my brother set down his things and peel off his sweatshirt to dry by the fire. He looked smug, listening to Skip.

"...so after Michael left I found this really big tree, so I climbed it, and then we saw the Militia coming and I got out my -"

"Wait," Peter held Skip's chest to pause him. He looked to Michael instantly. "The Militia?"

"It was only two watchmen." Michael explained. "I couldn't see any weapons on them."

Peter still looked uneasy, but Skip continued. "Anyway, I got out my slingshot and pegged them with acorns!" He grinned proudly.

Peter looked at Michael again and frowned. "Didn't I tell you not to climb any trees tonight?"

Skip's focus moved to Eli, resting his back against the pile of logs beside me. "He bet that I couldn't climb it before Michael came back." Skip pointed an accusatory finger at my irresponsible brother.

My mouth dropped open. "Elliott!"

"What?"

"Don't worry about it. Everyone made it home safe, that's all that matters." Peter stood slowly, stretching the muscles in his broad shoulders. My glare was strong enough to scold Eli for him.

We all said goodnight and sunk into our beds for the night. They could only offer us a few blankets, but we spread the larger one out on the floor and used the others to cover ourselves.

Eli was lying on his side, his back facing me. I listened for the sound of his snoring, but I didn't hear it. "Are you still awake?"

He grunted in response.

"Are we still leaving in the morning?"

"At the crack of dawn." He confirmed. "Don't plan on sleeping in."

The rain was beginning to slow, only a few drops making it past the treetops. "Eli?"

"Hmm?"

I hesitated, staring absently at the ceiling. "Do you think Dad is worried about us?"

Eli sighed, rolling over on his back to stare at the ceiling with me. "He's probably on the way to Philadelphia to start his training."

My bottom lip twitched as I fought my emotions. "I just...I don't think we should have left."

"You didn't have to go anywhere."

"But I wanted to. We both wanted to leave him. We shouldn't have..." The tears welled up in puddles inside my eyelids.

"Erica, I had to leave. He was going to brand me with Monroe's initials and drag me down there against my will. I had to run. You could have stayed."

"But you would have been all alone."

"I would have left anyway. I don't want to waste my life with a man like that."

The tears spilled over. "Eli, he's our father!"

"You followed me out here, didn't you? You already picked me over him. He doesn't care about us. Look what happened to Mom." He was spitting out his words like curses.

I took a few breaths to stabilize my voice. "All of their parents were killed by the Militia. We should at least be grateful we have our father."

Eli jerked his shoulder back as he rolled to his side again. "I stopped being grateful when Dad came home with the burn mark."

It took me a long time to fall asleep. I felt my consciousness go in and out, but it never went deep enough for sleep. Before I knew it, Eli was nudging me to open my eyes.

The air was thick with fog, yet the sun shined bright. I sat up too quickly, my head spinning at the sensation.

"Come on." Eli urged me. "We're burning daylight."

It was still very early. The sun was just stretching its arms. "Shouldn't we wait to say goodbye?

"I don't think that's a good idea."

My eyelids were still baggy, but I gathered my bag and my baseball bat before following Eli outside. I walked a few feet into the trees and turned to catch a glimpse of the crumbly brick building. The fog lay mysteriously over the walls, challenging my memory of it. Soon, the view was completely clouded over.

Like it never even existed.


End file.
